Day by Day
by Cas di Angelo
Summary: Finnick was 14, Claire was 16. They'd sworn long ago to protect each other, because that's what Odairs and Crestas do. And now they've got to be in the Games.
1. A Perfect Day

_Companion track: Evacuating London, Chronicles of Narnia_

* * *

><p>I'm sitting on my bed and twisting my long brown hair into a braid when Annie wakes up. It's probably five in the morning, but that's the time we love best. The time when the Peacekeepers don't care if we're just screwing around in the ocean, even if it is a Sunday.<p>

"Here, let me," Annie sits down next to me and finishes the somewhat sloppy braid. I smile at her, because who couldn't love my little sister? She ties off the end with a strip of blue-gray cloth. "That should stay while we're swimming."

Silently, the two of us change into our swim suits, pulling on oversized shirts and cutoff pants. We don't want to wake our father before he has to get up and open the cafe. Just before we leave, I sling my homemade bag over my shoulder, and Annie and I walk barefoot along the worn cobblestone street.

This is what we do every Sunday. Annie and I meet up with our friends, Toby and Finnick, and we spend the day swimming and playing in the water. We're not the only kids who do this, but we're the ones who go out the farthest. Papa always calls us a bunch of dolphins.

Halfway to the beach, I spot two figures in the distance. Toby and Finnick. Toby is in my year at school, and Finnick and Annie are two years apart. We spend all our free time together, and more than once Papa has joked that we'll pair off and get married someday.

"Good morning, Crestas," Toby grins when we draw even with them. He takes the bag off my shoulder. "We got one of the better boats," he says. "One of the double-hulls."

"Great," Annie says. She grins mischievously at me, and suddenly all four of us are off and racing to the beach. Our boat, rented for the day, is tied to the dock with a new peacekeeper standing by. I can tell he's new because of the way he's standing away from the edge of the dock, worried about falling in. The new ones also have the same look on their face, their noses wrinkled because they aren't yet used to the smell of fish in _everything_. It's really quite funny.

We toss our things onto the center platform of the boat and push off, eager to be out on the water by sunrise. Toby, Annie, and I make the leap onto the deck, but Finnick jumps a bit short and has to swim after us. Laughing, Toby lowers the rudder to Finnick while Annie and I unfurl the sails. In just a few short minutes, we're well on our way out to sea.

Looking over the things the boys brought, I can see that we'll be doing some fishing as well. Among other essential supplies, Finnick has brought half-a-dozen tridents and a medium sized net. Toby has a basket of bread and oyster meat that he'd shelled only this morning while waiting for the peacekeepers to open the docks. I add a pack of smoked tuna to the mix and we have quite a good breakfast. Anything else we want to eat out on the water we'll have to catch, the peacekeeper reminds us as we're pulling away. As if it will be a challenge.

This is my definition of a perfect day. None of us opted to be trained in the Academy, and likewise we don't favor the company of the kids training there. It's not as if they've not got seawater in their veins like the rest of us, they just have more of a blood lust. Finnick and Toby prefer fishing and swimming, Annie is too kindhearted and, well, they wouldn't accept me even if I wanted to get in.

You can enter the Academy when you turn ten, which takes place of your regular schooling and leisure activities. Only when you pass some final test are you allowed to volunteer as a tribute for the Games. A lot of people in the district expected me to join, not only because I'm talented with a blade, but because I'm the oldest child in the family. I was going to, too. Just to stop them talking bad about my family.

But when I was nine, I went fishing with my father. He was teaching me how to reel in some of the bigger fish that venture into the bay. Everything was going well, and we'd been tracking a ten-foot marlin that, according to Papa, would be fantastic in soup. The beast already had one tow harpoon in him, and we just needed one more to bring him in. I shot it, keeping hold of the rope as Papa began tying it down. But before the knots could be secured, the line jerked and I was pulled in.

I thought the marlin was trying to make his escape, but under the water I could see a massive tiger shark. And apparently it saw me as a better snack than the half-dead marlin suspended by the harpoons. The shark clamped down over my right arm and onto my shoulder, shaking me and tearing huge chunks out of my flesh with its razor sharp teeth. I must have blacked out while I was still in the water, because the next thing I was conscious of was lying on a medical bed at the apothecary. Missing my right arm completely.

I healed alright, but I had to re-learn a lot of things. Swimming, getting dressed, tying nets, fishing... it seemed every time I mastered something new there was another task that I had to learn. But I'm a quick learner and, even though I was mostly independent by the time I turned ten, I couldn't join the other kids at the Academy.

I was bothered by it at first, but then Toby and Finnick invited me and Annie to join them on their fishing days. Then again. And again. Eventually it became a tradition of ours, a sort of release that kept us sane. Even now, we never miss a week. Nothing really keeps us apart for long.

We spend all day on the water, filling our bellies and talking about everything and nothing. There are only a few clouds in the sky, but we don't burn easily; we just tan and, in Annie's case, freckle. Come sundown, we all sit warm and propped up against the mast and turned to the west, watching the ocean change from blue to gold to red to black. Days like this seem to last forever, and sometimes I wish they would. Especially today.

Because tomorrow is reaping day.


	2. Following the Sunset

_Companion track: Into the West, Return of the King_

* * *

><p>When I wake up, I instantly want to banish the world and head back to my dreams. I remember vague impressions, like the smell of the ocean and the thrill of being carried by the waves. And my friends. Finnick, and Toby, as well as Annie were there. But no peacekeepers. Nobody was there to tell us to stop, to come back to shore. It was wonderful.<p>

I hear Annie roll over in her bed and am reminded exactly why I wanted to keep dreaming. Today is reaping day. Everyone has to be in the square by ten, which means we have a few hours, but they will be the worst hours of my life. They always are. And now, Annie is in the reaping too. I have to be brave for both of us now.

I sit up and slip into my swimming clothes. I won't be able to get a boat, but I can at least swim in the shallows. My hair is loosely in the braid from yesterday, but I don't try to fix it. I just need to feel the water on my skin. Just once today, then I'll be back home to help Annie get ready for the reaping.

As I walk barefoot along the dawn-lit road, I hear another set of quiet footsteps and feel a warm, rough hand slip into mine. Looking around, I see Toby walking silently next to me. He glances at me and I can see that he's just as anxious as I am. Neither of us talks until we're on the beach.

"How's Annie doing?" Toby asks.

"I don't know," I say guiltily. "I left before she was awake."

Together, we wade out until the waves lap around our thighs. I remember doing this as a child, to help 'get my sea legs'. On regular days, you can see scores of small children standing in the shallows learning how to hold their balance when the water is constantly moving. After so many weeks of this, the children feel the ebb and flow in their very skin. Its a wonderful sensation that never truly goes away.

"We really shouldn't be nervous," Toby tries to reassure me. "Someone from the Academy will volunteer and we'll be fine."

I say nothing. What he doesn't know, and I do, is that there were only three kids eligible for volunteering—until a week ago. They somehow violated their rights to try for the games when they broke some serious Academy rules. So there will be no volunteers from District 4 this year.

"Toby, what would you do if Finnick was picked?" I ask suddenly.

Toby laughs uncertainly. "What do you mean?"

I look at him and repeat my question. "What would you do?"

Toby stares off across the water, a frown drawing lines on his brow. "Try not to go mad," he says quietly. I'm confused by his answer until I remember that he once had an older brother. Anuk, his name was. At the age of fifteen, he was picked in the reaping and, out of spite, nobody volunteered for him. I don't remember watching his games because I was only five, but I remember the stories. He died of dehydration in the middle of a desert. Toby became nigh unreachable, I hear, and the only thing he would do was sit in a tub full of cold water, as if it would somehow right the wrong done to Anuk and bring him back.

"Claire, do you remember the promise we made a few years ago?" Toby asks after a while. The sun is nearly above the horizon now.

"Yes," I say with a slight smile. I quote the words woven into the bracelets we made. "Protect each other no matter the cost-"

"'Because that's what Odairs and Crestas do'," Toby finishes. He's not really Finnick's brother, but after his parents died, the Odair family took him in. "And that's what's going to happen if any of us is picked. We'll protect each other _no matter what._"

I'm a little taken aback at the fierceness with which Toby says the words, but I'm glad that he's so adamant. It's reassuring. We stand in the waves a while longer but when the sun is fully up we turn to head back home. Toby walks with me the whole way, stopping in front of my door but not relinquishing my hand just yet.

"I made something for you," he says, reaching into his pocket. What he pulls out is a simple gray oyster shell strung on a length of the rough cord we use for making nets. He tries a smile, but it looks more like a grimace. "I know its not like those polished shells you can get from the market, but I was hoping you'd wear it today."

I take the necklace and run the cord through my fingers. It helps calm me down a bit. "You made this?" I ask. Toby nods. I rub my thumb on the shell. It must have come from an old oyster, because the it's thicker than most shells I've seen. "Its perfect." I say. I hold it out to him. "Help me put it on?"

Normally I would manage by myself, but everyone feels closer on reaping day. I pull my messy braid off my neck and turn around so Toby can tie the knot. My skin grows warm where his fingers brush, and I wonder briefly about the future. When we turn 19 and get out of the reaping, would we end up together? Its something I avoid thinking about, because as far as I know either or both of us could be on our way to the Capitol this very afternoon.

We say our farewells and I head back to my room to begin getting ready for the reaping. We've got about two hours now. Annie is up and combing her hair, twisting it back into a more difficult kind of braid she must have learned at school. When she sees in the mirror, she smiles and says hello.

"Are you going to wear your blue blouse?" she asks. "It makes your eyes so pretty."

I hadn't given much thought to what I'd wear, to be honest. "I think I will," I say. I cross to the bureau and extract the blouse in question. It has belled sleeves, and a smooth tan cord that bunches the neck when tied. Another, wider strip goes around my waist, and the bottom hem falls even with my fingertips. I change, pulling on a soft white skirt as well. Then I unravel my braid so Annie can do something with my hair.

I sit in front of the dressing table and watch Annie as she cleverly weaves my hair into something beautiful. The way the strands are twisted reminds me of ropes, and when she is done I look in amazement at the soft brown net she's formed on the top of my head. I reach back to feel that it ends in one strand over the rest of my hair that has been left loose.

Annie rests her hands on my shoulders, and for a while we just watch ourselves in the mirror.

"Are you scared?" I finally ask.

Annie presses her lips together, worry lines forming briefly on her face. "I guess so," she says. "I'll be glad when its over, though. Papa says he's going to make his lobster bake for supper."

I smile, because I know that it's Annie's favorite. Not that I'm surprised. Papa made us tuna steaks after my first reaping. I glance at the small clock on the dressing table and see that we've only got twenty minutes to get to the square.

"We'd better go," I say, pushing the chair back and getting to my feet. "We'll get in trouble if we're late."

We meet our father on the stairs and he pulls us into a tight hug before he walks us to the square, an arm around our shoulders. Between the three of us, we don't talk much. We can say as much in a hug as we can with words. More, even. So when I feel the reluctant way Papa lets us go, I know what he means. _I love you. No matter what happens, I love you._

I check in and join the group of sixteens. Slightly ahead and to my right, I can see Toby with his head down and his fingers skillfully knotting a short length of rope. He does this whenever he gets nervous. Usually, though, he doesn't watch what he's doing, but I know he'd rather see the rope than the reaping. I crane my head around, trying to spot Annie and Finnick through the crowd, but there are too many people. Too many kids who might get picked for the games. I turn back to face front.

Lana Delzim, a rather tall and regal looking woman from the Capitol steps up to the microphone to begin. She introduces the showing we see every year, and I automatically tune everything out, passively watching the woman until she crosses to the glass reaping bowl. Suddenly I'm as focused as anyone.

Lana fishes around in the bowl for what seems an eternity before pulling out the small slip of paper that will announce our girl tribute this year. My breath catches in my throat as I think of Annie. Lana clears her throat once she's back at the microphone, and she smooths out the paper.

"Claire Cresta!"

Something's wrong. My legs are moving, and the stage is drawing near to me, even though I'm certain I couldn't do anything but stay rooted to the spot. How could I be picked? _How?_ Somewhere in the back of my mind, the fact registers that people are muttering. I guess my name is familiar, and everyone knows me by sight. They're either interested or unhappy about a one-armed girl going into the games.

When I mount the stage, I see a slight scuffle in the twelve-year-old section. Someone is holding Annie back, covering her mouth even. I see the girl, a second-year in the Academy. I see her looking at me sadly. She's protecting Annie, I think. Stopping her from volunteering.

Lana says something, and there is scattered applause through the crowd. I notice that while some people clap enthusiastically, others only put their hands together a few times before they stop. These are the people who know me, who know the Crestas personally. The ones who know we're not fighters.

I see Lana move to the boys' reaping ball, and I try hard to focus. Whoever gets called with either be enormous help or hurt to me. I need to pay attention.

"Finnick Odair!"

What?

Lana, that's not right, I think. Read it again and get the name right.

But it must have been right. Finnick is walking stiffly up to the stage, his eyes locked on me. A silent plea for help. But I can't do anything, he must know that. I'm as much at their mercy as he is. He begins climbing the stairs, and between the ground and the stage I sense a shift. He's less stiff when he comes to stand on the other side of Lana, and I amazingly see a look of calm determination on his face. We shake hands, and I can see a slight tone of terror in his eyes. I understand completely, because I'm feeling the exact same thing.

In the Justice building, we are escorted to separate rooms. Mine has a window that overlooks the ocean, and I force it open to let in a breeze, because the air is verging on suffocating. I lean on the windowsill and gulp in the salty air. I can hear the rumble of the crowd leaving the square, and the sound blocks out the waves on the shore. I move away from the window.

The door opens and Papa and Annie run in. I'm startled to see Annie's crying. We hold each other, not saying anything. Annie has a vice-like grip around my waist and I'm certain that if it weren't for the peacekeepers she'd never let go. But all too soon the door is opening to a white uniformed man, and we're saying our goodbyes. Then the door is shut and they're gone. And I'm petrified I'll never see them again.

A few minutes later, the door opens again and Toby comes in. In an instant he's got me wrapped in a hug. I teared up a little when Annie and Papa were in here, but with Toby I can't hold back.

"You're going to be alright," he says. His voice breaks, and I'm glad my face is buried in his shoulder. I want to say something, and I snatch at the first thing that comes to mind.

"You'd want me to win instead of Finnick?" I ask quietly, remembering what he said earlier. Toby must be thinking of it too, because he says, "I would be heartbroken if Finnick died. He's the closest thing I have left to family. But..." he swallows. Hard. "I would lose the will to live if you were gone."

Its the closest thing Toby has ever said to 'I love you,' but for me it's close enough.

"I don't want to leave," I cry. "I never want to leave."

Toby pulls me back so he can look me in the eye. "And you won't," he says. He presses the heel of his hand to the hollow formed by my left shoulder and collar bone. Over my heart. "Do you feel that? It matches the sound of the surf. And you've got more salt water in your blood than anyone I know. Your sea legs will never leave you, and you've got years of perfect Sundays to look back on. Remember all of that, and you'll never really leave."

"What if it's not enough?" I whisper. Toby considers this, his dark blue eyes penetrating mine.

"Then I'll give you one more thing," he leans forward and lightly kisses me, first on the forehead then on my lips. "I hope that will keep you safe," he says softly.

The peacekeepers open the door and make to usher Toby out. Before they do, he taps the shell around my neck. The one he gave me. "Wear that, will you?" Then I'm alone.

I don't have any more visitors, so I'm escorted by peacekeepers to the train station. Here I see Finnick, and notice that his eyes are just slightly red. He's cried a bit, and I wonder if Annie and Papa went to see him. I decide not to ask.

Lana Delzim gets us onto the train, and we're on our way to the Capitol. She says we'll arrive there this evening and be able to have a good night's rest in our level of the training center. After a few failed attempts at conversation, Lana just leaves us alone.

I hide my head in my arm on a polished wooden table, and I hear Finnick sink into a chair next to me. We're quiet for what feels like hours, and nobody disturbs us.

"Annie came to say goodbye," Finnick says quietly. I lift my head, because talking at all is unexpected. Finnick sighs, and I see that he's got the length of rope Toby had earlier. Now that we're in the privacy of the train, and not in front of dozens of cameras, I can see he looks stunned and emotionally drained. "She told me to come home."

I don't know why Finnick is telling me this. But I do understand why Annie would say something like that. Papa has always told us that after we die, we go to a paradise to be with our loved ones. And that we should never be afraid of death. That we should only be afraid of not living the best we can. And even though I feel like my chest is being crushed with sorrow, I cannot bring myself to resent Annie wanting Finnick to come home instead of me. So I lift my chin and try smiling at Finnick.

"Then you've got to win." I say. And I know I'll do anything in my power to protect him, because that's what Odairs and Crestas do.


	3. Deathly Realization

_Companion track: Brother Bear, Transformation, by the Bulgarian Women's choir_

* * *

><p>We arrived at the capitol yesterday evening. People were eagerly awaiting our arrival at the train station, and the bright colors had reminded me of the reef just off the east shore back home. We'd been taken to the training center, dropped off at the fourth floor. And now, after a restless night's sleep in a too-soft bed, I am subjected to being scrubbed, waxed, and lathered in strange lotions, foams and cream.<p>

The first thing they did this morning was coat my right shoulder—where the skin is scarred a purplish-red—in a thick yellow paste. They say its going to lighten the skin to normality. They comment on everything about me, from the sunned brown of my skin color to the thickness of my hair. Apparently living in District 4 is the equivalent of their 'sea salt' treatment... I tune out as one of the women, dressed in green and blue with odd-looking feathers in her hair, begins to go into detail about the effects of the whole thing.

When they are done, they leave me alone. Only a few minutes later, the door slides open and a woman with straight blond hair streaked with blue and red walks in. She has outrageously long eyelashes that match the colors in her hair, a series of perfectly symmetrical freckles on her cheeks, and lips painted a solid blue. I don't even try to make sense of her clothes. She introduces herself as Adelaide Yola.

"I'll be honest in telling you that your stature has presented me with a bit of a challenge." She crosses her arms as if I've offended her in some way. "I've been working through the night to modify your parade costume so that you look a bit more..." her eyes linger on my right shoulder. "Appealing."

That irks me. "What, you've never heard of an accident?" I ask sharply. "It's not as if I chose to lose my arm."

"Of course not," Adelaide says, waving her hand. "I was simply referring to the fact that we want our tributes to look whole and healthy and beautiful, and right now you only fulfill two of these requirements." Now I'm certain I've offended her.

"So how are you going to make me look whole?" I ask icily.

Adelaide smiles slyly. "You'll see."

How can I not feel apprehensive?

It takes almost a whole hour to get me into my chariot costume, mostly because the paste on my shoulder has to finish setting. After the dress is on and my makeup is done, I'm allowed to look in the mirror.

The first thing that comes to mind is a creature out of one of our fishing legends. A creature that was half-human, half-fish. They would lure fishermen to their deaths with their beautiful looks and voices. A Mermaid. The most deadly thing out of lore.

The dress is a deep blue, the fabric rippling and reflecting the way water does. There is a silver conch shell fastening a matching cape to my right shoulder, and the way it hangs hides my side perfectly. My hair is twisted into thin ropes to where its piled on top of my head, curled and adorned with pearls and one silver starfish.

I'm escorted down to the bottom of the remake center, where all the tributes are waiting by their chariots. I see Finnick and have to laugh at the fact that his costume is a bit like mine; only his torso is completely bare. After years of being close friends with him, I know how uncomfortable he must be right now.

"Hey, Claire," Finnick says. He's fiddling with the short length of silver rope bound around his left arm.

"I guess they wanted to show off how scrawny you are," I say. Its not entirely true—Finnick has been able to build himself up a bit over the last year. Comes with growing up, I guess. But he'll always be a beanpole in my eyes.

"Well, at least they made you look good," Finnick says, teasing. "You actually look pretty for once in your life."

Another woman, dressed in a pink and orange patterned frock and gold hair comes over and orders us into the chariot. "Chins up, smile and wave. At least _act_ like you're happy to be here."

"Is that your stylist?" I ask. Finnick nods, grimacing slightly.

"Her name is Camilla, and she's sisters with your stylist. Personally, I think they're both a bit mad."

I nod solemnly, because that was the impression I got as well. A voice comes over a loudspeaker, announcing the beginning of the parade. The wide doors slide open and the roar of the crowd drowns out all other noise. I'm glad that the chariots go out in order of the districts, because that means we don't have to wait long before ours starts moving.

Among the cheering citizens, I can hear a scattering of the tributes' names. Every now and again, I catch mine or Finnick's, and I try to wave in the general direction from where it came. But it's hard to tell with all the noise. When we're halfway to the City Circle, Finnick turns to me and says something. I have to lean closer and he repeats himself.

"We're a long way from the ocean, huh?"

I laugh. "I just want to see one palm tree, and I'll be happy."

"I think we're too high for that," Finnick says with a slight frown. He opens his mouth to say more, but our chariot pulls to a halt and we have to listen to President Snow. Its during his little speech that it hits me. The 65th annual Hunger Games are about to begin. And I'm a tribute. I'm going to die soon.


End file.
